Awesome Doesn't Cry
by Busby's Teapot
Summary: "Me, crying? Don't be daft Vash, Awesome doesn't cry." No, Gilbert wasn't currently doing an Arthur and drowning his sorrows, occasionally sobbing into his pint glass. Because he was fine. Awesome even. Not heartbroken. Definitely not heartbroken.


**Awesome Doesn't Cry**

_**By Busby's Teapot**_

_"...We need to talk…"_

A low groan was emitted from the heap slumped over the barstool.  
_Roderich. _That damn bastard never left him. He was always there; ever pretentious, ever superior, or at least compared to him, it seemed. Though how this was the case, he did not know, because he was awesome.  
But Elizabeta had obviously thought that way, and she was all that mattered. She had left him for Roderich, that stupid fucking pansy of a pianist. He hated the idea of having to relinquish some of his 'awesome' to become more emotionally dependent, because that kind of thing was never his style. Until she arrived. It had taken a lot for him to trust her enough for them to actually become romantically involved. And for a while, it had been worth it and he had honestly thought she was 'the one' (not that he would ever admit it; such thoughts belonged in the minds of sappy gits. Like Roderich). Of course she had gone and ruined that.

_"…I think we need to break up…"_

She had ripped out his heart, thrown it to the ground, marched an army over it, bashed it a few times with her frying pan for good measure, then spat in the mushy remains.

_"...I love you, I really do, it's just I'm no longer in love with you..."_

But he was fine. Awesome even. And he wasn't currently doing an Arthur and drowning his sorrows, occasionally sobbing into his pint glass.  
Of course he wasn't, because awesome doesn't cry.  
It doesn't.  
And therefore he wasn't, honestly.  
He let out something between a groan and a wail and slumped over into his arms. The barman, who knew him well, gave him a concerned glance whilst he served another customer.

_"...Someone else. I think you know who though..."_

The heartbroken albino did not move, even when someone slipped into the seat beside him. At least not until they spoke; their voice familiar but uncharacteristicly soft.  
"I heard."  
A gloved hand patted his shoulder awkwardly.  
"She's a bitch. He's a bastard."  
And he was awesome.  
Yet here he was, alone.

_"...Roderich. I'm in love with Roderich..."_  
"I can shoot him if you want. Or her. Or both. Whatever, its not like I'm lacking in bullets."  
At this he gave a weak attempt at a laugh and lifted his head to fix his companion with a half-hearted smile.  
Green eyes narrowed at him.  
"Gil, have you been crying?"  
Gilbert let out a loud, obnoxious and obviously fake laugh.  
"Me, crying? Don't be daft Vash, Awesome doesn't cry."  
The blond just fixed him with one of his looks and turned to order a red wine.  
"Ha! Wine, that's such a gay drink."  
Vash sent him another withering look. Oh yeah, sometimes he forgot, what with Vash's hidden depths of awesome and general aversion to irritating people (ie everyone else) that the man was in fact as gay as a maypole.

_In love with Roderich._

And he had dated Roderich the Arschloch. For three years it had been the two 'cute' couples, Elizabeta and Gilbert, Roderich and Vash. If only it had stayed that way.

_Roderich._

If only.

_Roderich._  
Vash had stuck around for some reason Gilbert had never understood. For a while, he had thought maybe he was still in love with Roderich. Nope. Turns out Vash was the one who had ended it with the stupid aristocrat for some unknown reason. Not even Lizzy knew, and that woman could pull the secrets out of literally anyone.

Gilbert asked about it as Vash was handed his drink and received an enigmatic smile in return. Evidently it was to remain a mystery.  
They lapsed into a companionable silence.  
"It's hard, I know," Vash said after a moment. "But it gets better."  
"How?"  
"You'll find someone else."  
Gilbert snorted, and didn't bother to give that a response. Perhaps Francis was rubbing off on the Swiss man.  
"God, love sucks balls."

_Roderich._  
"It most definitely does."  
"And to have to see her and know I can't have her, can't hold her..."

_Roderich gets the girl._

He trailed off and drained the remainder of his beer, slamming the empty glass down on the bar.  
"Francis always makes love out to be this amazing uplifting thing. But all it does is cause pain and sadness. It's not awesome at all."  
"It is," Vash argued. "But only when they love you back. Otherwise it is just as bad as you say."  
Gilbert frowned and glanced at Vash whose green eyes were now glaring down at his half empty beer.  
"You sound as if you speak from experience."  
"I do."  
"Wanna tell me about it?"  
"No."  
Vash seemed a little testy and was avoiding his gaze. Gilbert watched him carefully, for once quiet and not trying to annoy the information out of someone. Over the past year or so, despite opposing personalities, he and Vash had somehow become friends. He had come to understand the other's need for time, to work up the courage to talk about a difficult issue.

_Sometimes the guy._  
Sure enough, he soon spoke,  
"He's straight."  
Gilbert did not quite know what to say to that, other than the obvious 'that's really not awesome' so he stayed silent.  
"So it's not like I even have a chance he could ever fall in love with me eventually."

_Whatever he wants, the bastard gets._

Sometimes, on the few occasions his expression wasn't morphed into its usual scowl, and Hell, even sometimes when he was scowling, Gilbert could see why Vash unknowingly left a trail of poor smitten sods in his wake; the guy was cute, but his delicate features were composed in such a way that they weren't entirely unmasculine. Of course, then he pulled out his gun... Not a euphemism.

_But not Gilbert._  
"Hey we should speak to Arthur," he suggested, smiling cheekily, "He probably has a 'add two drops into afternoon tea for instant homosexuality' potion."  
A strange sense of pride swelled in his chest as he saw a small smile quirk those thin lips.  
"In all seriousness Vash," he said, placing a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. Judging by his expression, the words coming out of his mouth sounded as alien as they felt. "You've been there for me, so if you tell me I can return the favour, or you know we can be the world's most awesome sad saps together."  
Locking eyes with Vash, Gilbert could now see the conflict swirling in their depths.  
Heaving a sigh, he said, "You really want,to know, don't you?'  
"Yes."

_Not Gilbert, harsh and crass and too straightforward._

Somehow, it didn't seem right for Vash to be in pain, determined little fighter that he was, and that was probably what had set Gilbert's stomach on edge as the conversation progressed.  
"Because once I tell you, there's no going back."  
"I know."

_No, not Gilbert._  
"It started about eighteen months ago, in all honesty, but it was only a year ago, it hit me like a ten ton brick one day, completely out of the blue. I was at a loss for what to do. I broke up with Roderich instantly, you know, because i-"  
"Vash, you're stalling, just tell me."  
Sighing again, he ran a hand through his choppy blond hair. Gilbert wondered why the poor man was so nervous, rambling in such an uncharacteristic manner. It wasn't as if he would make fun of his taste in men; the guy had dated _Roderich_, in Gilbert's awesome opinion, you could do no worse.  
"Alright."

_Never Gilbert._  
There was a pregnant pause and Gilbert waited expectantly.  
"Well?"  
Yet another sigh. Vash ran his hand through his hair again. Then it burst out, unexpectedly.

_Never, ever Gilbert._

"You, okay? I'm in love with you Gilbert."

**AN: Evil ending is evil. Slightly random one, inspired by The Streets song 'Dry Your Eyes' becoming mashed up with The Cure's 'Boys Don't Cry' in my head. Elizabeta and Roderich aren't supposed to be bad people, they just fell in love at the wrong time and poor Gilbert got caught in the cross-fire. Hope you enjoyed it! **

** ~Teapot**


End file.
